Reluctance
by Hear-Me-Moo
Summary: Dakota didn't want to be here. Really. In fact, as soon as she found the party responsible, she was gonna kick them in the face. But first she had to get back home, and hopefully not die. But most importantly, she had to not interfere with the story playing out around her. Should be easy enough, right?


**So a few weeks ago I had a touch of nostalgia and re watched the entire FMA: Brotherhood series, and then I couldn't get this idea out of my head. This is mainly me having fun.**

**This chapter's shorter than I'd usually write but eh, it wanted to end where it ended so...**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own nothing.**

* * *

There were some days that Dakota hated waking up. She hated that groggy, half asleep heaviness that settled in the back of your head. She hated leaving the warmth of her sheets. She hated having to go to school a few hours later, still not fully awake.

But today? Today Dakota hated waking up because she was in the middle of freaking nowhere.

She was in the desert. _The desert_, of all damn places! Dakota lived in the city for crying out loud, and it had been snowing yesterday!

So, a mild meltdown should be allowed, given the circumstances. Dakota felt she deserved one, actually, and therefore felt no shame in spending the first five minutes of consciousness freaking the hell out. She wasn't even sure what she thought it would achieve. The answer falling from the sky, perhaps? Or maybe her dad slamming her bedroom door open and forcing her awake with his usual '"_Dakota-Yoda! The day's a-wasting! Git yer butt up, Missy!"_'?

But nothing. No answers came floating down helpfully, no daddy's voice telling her to move it. Just the sun beating down on her and more sand than she'd ever wanted to see. Which meant this was real. She was actually here, not experiencing a sweaty, vivid nightmare.

And Dakota was so, so screwed.

In the middle of the blazing heat wearing nothing but a pair of dark blue jeans and a solid black long-sleeve shirt? Oh yeah, she was gonna die. Hell, her wool socks and work shoes alone were gonna give her heat stroke.

Dakota rubbed a hand across her face. "Okay, calm down Kota, you can do this." she muttered.

Nodding to herself, Dakota searchingly patted the pocket area of her jeans. She felt the familiar bulge of her keys and phone, pumping a fist victoriously. Two seconds later, she had the phone out in her hands and, thankfully, turned on with full battery.

Her momentary excitement died a real quick death the moment she saw the 'helpful' notification on the top of the screen, informing her that there was no service. "Ah, crap, no!" she groaned, shaking her phone. "C'mon you can't do this to me now, you've never failed me before!"

Dakota's cell did nothing, screen dimming after a few moments. "Damn it!" She bit her lip, feeling tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. Oh God, what was she going to do? No phone, no car, nobody around to help! She was gonna die in the middle of the desert at fifteen freaking years old because her damn phone wasn't in a service area.

"What good are you if you can't make calls?" Dakota yelled. She threw her phone at the ground with a roar, turning to kick at the sand around her. "What kind of–" she grunted, spinning and kicking at a rock and watching it bounce a few feet away. "–God forsaken land doesn't have _anything_?!" With a wordless cry, Dakota let herself fall to her knees. She sighed dejectedly, watching a beetle crawl up and down the sand.

What was going on? No really, how the hell does something like this happen?

With no answers forthcoming, Dakota sighed again, straightening out her legs and letting herself flop down on her back with a huff. "Well fine then, I guess I'll just lay here." she announced primly, like she expected a reply. "Dad's not here to tell me not to lay on the ground, so that's what I'm gonna do."

She stretched an arm out behind her, eyebrows furrowing when her fingers touched something that was decidedly _not_ sand. Dakota sat up, twisting around to look, and blinked. It was plastic bag. Better yet, it had stuff inside. Dakota felt a victorious smile twitch at her lips, scrambling over to the bag. She yanked the bag open, peering down at the contents.

Two cans of Arizona, a vine of tomatoes, a bag of chips and a wallet. Dakota tilted her head, chewing at her lip. Come to think of it… "Weren't these the groceries I carried home with dad yesterday?" Sitting back on her ankles, Dakota picked up the wallet. Her I.D., along with all her other cards and change, confirmed it. The bag of food was hers. "Lucky for me…" she muttered. "But why would a bag of groceries be with me here?"

Dakota looked up, chewing on her cheek lightly, eyebrows furrowed. "How in the heck am I even _here_?" People don't just wake up in strange places. Not unless they were kidnapped, but she was utterly alone here. Not to mention, her dad was a single parent with two kids. It's not like he could afford to pay some sort of ransom, someone would gain no value by kidnapping her.

The last thing she could remember was coming home for the store with dad. After that... what had she done, again? Dakota thought hard, head tilting. "I fell asleep." she said aloud, blinking. "I came in, holding this bag of groceries and laid down on the couch."

"So either I'm still dreaming," Which was unlikely. "or I somehow just… I dunno, appeared here."

And it's not like she'd been drugged or something, she felt perfectly fine, not groggy at all.

Regardless, it wasn't the time to ponder the strangeness of her situation. She could do that after she reached civilization again. Blowing out a gust of air, Dakota stood up and looked around, peering out as far as her eyes could see.

Nothing, just mountains of sand.

Dakota sighed loudly, deflating. This was gonna be a long walk, and that was only _if_ she didn't die. Mercifully, there seemed to be an area that appeared to be frequently walked on, all headed in the same direction. Best of all, they had to be recent, or else the wind or rain would have covered them by now. She had found a path, a destination to work towards. Better than wandering aimlessly in any direction, anyway.

If people were actively traveling somewhere, it meant that it either lead out of the desert, or to someplace of value. Like some sort of city or town, perhaps. Maybe something else. Didn't matter much, as long as it meant that Dakota had a way to get to people again.

Gripping the handles of the plastic bag tightly, Dakota took a deep breath. Oddly enough, this felt like the start of something. What that something was, she had no clue, but it left her feeling jittery all the same.

Dakota took a step forward, then another, and another.

Nothing to do but walk.

* * *

Having put her phone back in her pocket, turned off to conserve energy, there was really no way to tell how much time had passed since she started walking. A few hours at least, based on the quick peek Dakota took of the sun's position, which had shifted quite a ways from when she had woken up.

It hadn't taken Dakota long to figure out that walking on sand was less than ideal. At this point, she was sure she'd rather be trudging through snow. It would have been less sweaty, anyway.

Sand was unforgiving, managing to be both uncomfortably solid beneath her feet, and stupidly squishy. Her feet alternated between sinking down, and feeling like she was walking on the worlds hardest rock.

Another issue that had quickly made itself known was the sun. A brief mental debate had ended with her deciding to leave her clothes on, mainly to lessen the inevitable sunburn, but that left her with dark, heat attracting clothes. Dakota hadn't thought that clothes could actually get burning hot to touch, but that had proven wrong real quickly.

At the very least, Dakota could thank her lucky stars that it was a dry heat, rather than an unbearable _humid_ one.

There was a bigger issue, on top of those, that Dakota wished she didn't have to acknowledge. But facts were facts, and at this point she was beyond ignoring that she really, really had to pee.

Well, actually, that wasn't the issue, the issue was how to deal with it. She was in an open area, seemingly alone, but with no guarantees that it was going to stay that way. Dakota wasn't really keen on, literally, being caught with her pants down.

In the end, she dealt with it, face burning, and shamefully continued on her way.

Another problem soon arose, when Dakota's stomach growled loudly. It was best to avoid the bag of chips as long as possible. She only had two cans of iced tea, and the amount of salt on the chips would dehydrate her.

Stopping, Dakota pulled the vine of tomatoes out of the bag, examining them. There were five of them, but without a fridge they wouldn't last long. Sure, they could last a while on the counter in her home, but out in the hot sun? She was doubtful of their longevity.

Making a face, Dakota bit into one of the tomatoes, putting the rest of the vine back in the bag for later. The tomato went quickly, much to her disappointment, barely filling her stomach, but it was better than nothing, and she had no idea how long she'd be here. Licking her lips, she pulled out one of the cans, opening it and taking a few mouthfuls.

Iced tea wouldn't keep her hydrated enough, but, once again, it was better than nothing.

When the sun finally went down, Dakota had one can of Arizona, two tomatoes and the bag of chips left in the bag. None of it would last long, which made her bite at her lip worriedly.

She curled up on the sand, next to a plant, and tried to sleep.

* * *

Day two of the nightmare was even worse.

Dakota woke up sun burnt and with a massive headache. She grabbed a tomato and bit into it, the juices soothing her dry throat, but it did nothing to relieve her of the feeling of her sweat-stiff clothes, or the aching muscles.

She climbed to her feet, groaning loudly. Her head felt heavy and hot, but not like a sunburn, more like someone had lit a small fire in her brain that was slowly heating her head up from the inside out. She trudged forward, barely able to focus from the exhaustion.

Dakota felt like she was gonna die, and this was only day _two_. She knew she wasn't all that skilled at outdoor survival, but this was just ridiculous.

On and on she went, forcing one foot in front of the other again and again. She stumbled every once in a while, feet barely steadying in time. Dakota was fighting a battle with her body, and she was losing. Never had she ever felt so drained.

After a while, she could swear she saw something up ahead. It was a small something, which meant that it was far off, but it gave her hope nonetheless. At the very least, she could try to reach it before she passed out.

Dakota continued onwards, letting her mind drift aimlessly as she walked.

She thought about home, and it brought a tired smile to her face. She could picture the large tree in her backyard, the one her brother taught her to climb. She thought about the fuzzy mat beside her bed that her cat loved to sleep on.

Dakota's mouth thinned, feeling homesickness rise up and clench at her heart. Thinking about it made the urge worse, a part of her aching to sit down and cry about her situation.

She forced the feeling down, and trudged on.

Inevitably, her stomach protested it's emptiness, growling and twisting painfully. Dakota winced, letting out a breath. She wasn't touching the bag of chips, not while she already felt like she was dying, but that meant eating the last tomato, which she wasn't sure she should do. The exhaustion was weighing on her, she was slowing down, and it was making it hard to think. Worse still, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong with her.

She stopped walking, sitting on the ground with a thump that sprayed sand everywhere. She'd have sand in awkward places, but Dakota had no energy left to care.

With shaking hands, Dakota opened up the remaining can of Arizona, taking a tentative sip. It was unpleasantly warm, and tasted almost sour. Immediately, her stomach recoiled, twisting sharply, painfully, and Dakota gasped. The can fell from her hands, splashing all over the sand. She took a few gasping breaths, but her stomach continued to spasm angrily.

Dakota let out a choked noise, forcing down the rising urge to puke. She couldn't, not now, not when she already in such bad shape. A few tears slipped out of her eyes, feeling oddly cool on her cheeks. "Dad…" she whimpered. God, she wanted to go _home_.

Her gut flip-flopped one last time and the fight suddenly ended. Dakota bent forwards and puked, mush and stomach acid splattering against the sand. She heaved, gagging and sobbing, and fell sideways to the ground. Here eyes were oddly blurry, the world looking almost muffled, like there was a film over her eyes.

Dakota let out a long, drawn out noise, sniffling. She gingerly lifted a hand and placed it on her cheek, which felt swollen and alarmingly hot. But the rest of her body was going cold, unmoving, and it made her wonder if she was dying.

The last thing Dakota thought before she passed out, was that she swore she heard voices.

But she was alone here, wasn't she?


End file.
